Are the flies being courteous? Just when many of us decided to bunker down underground to avoid flies, they have now just as suddenly gone. Not a fly to be seen. I looked underneath the budding Hydrangeas. Apart from lounging around our worm-farm, this used to be their most favourite spot to congregate, plan their next course of action. Only this morning I still noticed a large black one, head down, still spinning around maniacally on the tiled sitting-room floor. He was obviously in their species well known and peculiar death-rite so common in the Australian fly.
There is only so much flies can put up with, not least getting doused with the much feared ‘knock-down’ spray. Forgive me giving the masculine version. I wonder if flies too have multi genders? I would not be surprised. They certainly are heading towards euthanasia. That is for sure. One can tell by the way they line up around my hand held ‘knock down’ weapon. Mortein Fly Spray, the fast loading Adler shotgun of the fly spray. Flies get depressed in Australia. Is it the Turnbull factor?
The real reason for their sudden disappearance goes deeper than love of fly spray or fly-lust for Mrs Euthanasia. We had a great change of weather last night. A Southerly Change. It is the Australia’s version of manna from heaven during relentless heat waves. Just when all hope is gone, despair seeped in, and all energy sapped by heat, that salvation is at hand; The Southerly Change. People regain the spring in their steps, tentative shopping at Aldi gets renewed, some even walk around at random, fly-sprays put back in the cupboard. Can you believe it?
There was Carol singing at our local Bradman Cricket Park. At the end of the singing they promised to let off fire-works. What fireworks have to do with Christmas escapes me. Perhaps a lure for people to turn up! In any case, it was very loud, and Milo, our Jack Russell went berserk. I don’t know what he thought of it all. On one hand he wanted to protect us but on the other hand he was so scared. He ran inside cowering near our feet. Poor thing, so brave. The last thing any Jack Russell needs, is to be thought of as being afraid.
An hour later while I was listlessly watching some incomprehensible movie on TV, named ‘Doctor Foster,’ it was thankfully interrupted by ‘no signal.’ The Southerly Change came about. Within minutes the remaining flies went underground. What is the secret of the flies withdrawal? Can someone give an explanation?
After waking this morning, watching the spinning of the last of the flies, we ventured to go outside again. A miracle, a miracle. Not a single fly! Where and why have they now gone? Perhaps it is wise not to contemplate on those sort of minor issues. Surely, the Christmas spirit should exclude ruminating endlessly about the plight of flies. They have a right to live and I am sure fulfil some kind of need the same as other creatures. Theirs must be of some benefit to mankind, even if just to clean up the mess of others. Many years ago, I heard that for Australia to get rid of flies we should all be eagerly breeding dung beetles. Apparently, they consume dung like no one else. Does anyone know where one can buy dung beetles?
They might make a good Christmas present